Courtroom Blues
by SLLS
Summary: Adama/Roslin. A discussion in the courtroom leads to an unexpected reaction. Set after season 3, minor spoilers for 'Epiphanies'. Slight AU.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters so please don't sue me as I am poor but if you have a penchant for tins of creamed corn, please feel free to sue but must provide your own can opener

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters so please don't sue me as I am poor but if you have a penchant for tins of creamed corn, please feel free to sue but must provide your own can opener.**

**Authors Note: Set after Season 3 (Crossroads Part 1 & 2) and contains spoilers for 'Epiphanies'. Slight AU. Small relation to my other Adama/Roslin 'Giving Up Hope'.**

**Courtroom Blues**

Without the jeering crowds baying for blood, the courtroom seemed and empty and desolate place. President Laura Roslin was seated in the witness box, her hands clasped in front of her and a grave look on her face. She looked down at her hands and were surprised to see them desperately clinging to one another. She smiled, thinking that maybe that's all she needed to help her through this right now. As if reading her thoughts, Admiral Adama entered the courtroom and made his way to stand in front of her, an eyebrow raised at the grin on her usually sombre lips.

"Is it best to ask or…" His voice tapered off, watching as the grin finally cracked and let loose a tirade of giggles. He couldn't help but find it infectious and joined in with her, knowing it's probably what she needed right now.

Roslin covered her mouth with her hand and the laughing soon stopped, a coughing fit inbound. She doubled over in her seat, feeling the Admiral's hand pressed against her shoulder, holding her up. "I guess I needed that, relieve stress…" She managed to get out when she had quieted her chest down.

"And if today wasn't stressful enough." Adama added, smiling at her before removing his hand. He found a couple of chairs stacked at the side of the room and dragged them over, beckoning for Roslin to take one. Slowly he helped her climb down from the witness box, but watching her resilience as she walked to the chair by herself. He couldn't help but be reminded of the first time he had to go through all of this, and how he had helped her up before. Roslin must have been thinking the same thing because she began to grin again, lowering herself unsteadily into the chair.

"When I'm down I'm down for good… I might just need some help getting back up." She turned to face Adama, the grin growing.

"Well, how awfully presumptuous that I would even help you up. But if you'll insist." Settling in the other chair, he edged it forward, inches from hers and held her hands delicately. "How are you feeling?"

"In all honestly I've felt better. It feels different from the last time-" Before she could finish, Adama interrupted, his gruff voice breaking slightly.

"That doesn't mean we can't stop it like last time."

"True Bill, but remember the scriptures? A dying leader. It needs to happen Bill, I feel it." A grim look on her face, she took her hands from his and rubbed at the Admiral pins on her jacket; that Adama had given her during her last treatment, as a sign of hope.

They both sat in silence for a moment with bowed heads. The emptiness was crushing and Adama had to raise his head, a thought coming to him. "Do you remember…" Roslin now raised her head, an inquisitive gaze on her eyes, "When you were up for the Presidential elections, and you used my quarters to prepare?"

A smile lighting up her face, she nodded solemnly, her eyes never leaving his. She remembered tearing up her cue cards for her speech, tossing them carelessly into the air and giggling. She had never felt so good.. Adama continued, the smile on his face showing he was happy with the answer, "Well, you made an awful mess for me to clean up, but I had never seen you so happy. So, I propose," Adama leant over and put his hands deep into her jacket pockets, bringing out with him scraps of paper, "We cheer you up a little."

Her mind was rushing to keep up with his plan and when she worked out what he proposed, she stood up, still smiling, straightened her jacket and buttoned it up. He copied her, holding on tight to the entertainment. "Which one should we start with?" She asked eagerly.

"From the beginning." He rummaged in his hand and pulled out a scrap of paper reading: 'Olympic Carrier'. Slowly she took it between her fingers, willing the last of her regret for that awful situation to leave her. Once she felt comfortable, and read it out several times to the empty room. She tore it up, quickly and firmly, before tossing them up in the air. She watched as her regret fluttered to the ground and lay at her feet, before raising her head and beaming at Adama. "Feel good?"

"You have no idea." She whispered playfully, before taking another from Adama, which she proceeded to deal with in the same way, until one was left. Remembering back to the day she wrote it in sick bay, dying, she knew that she could never destroy it. But Adama never handed it to her, instead he tore it in half, pocketing one piece and slipping the other in her pocket once again.

Tears pricking his eyes, he offered, "You're wearing the last of my hope, and I'm glad, but I think we both need a little something this time to keep us going." She rubbed at the pins again, and Adama moved closer to her, his hands clasped firmly in front of him. "You've put your regrets on trial, and there's never been any doubt in my mind who has always won."

Roslin felt a tear run down her cheek, which she quickly wiped away, feeling herself slightly sway. Steadying her, Adama moved forward and placed a delicate kiss on her lips. After a few seconds he came away from her face and looked her deep in the eyes, only to find her starting to giggle.

"Bill… I'm not laughing… at you… I…" She managed to utter whilst giggling. Adama feigned a hurt look to which she laughed to even harder. "I… don't know… what's… come over me!"

Bill stepped forward and linked arms with hers, trying to stop himself from giggling. He felt his hope swell inside, as it did everyday when he saw her approach him or sitting in Colonial One, discussing fleet matters defying the urge to condemn herself to death. Grinning down at the giggling mass that hung on his arm, he made his way out of the door, and led her on the way to sick bay, where he would sit with her and perhaps break a pencil.


End file.
